


A Jar of Blue

by ellorgast



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellorgast/pseuds/ellorgast
Summary: Ami has a thing for the new barista at Makoto's cafe, but she's too shy to say anything. He's got a thing for her too--but he might just spend more time trying to paint her than he does trying to talk to her.





	A Jar of Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verfound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/gifts).



> This was written for the Senshi & Shitennou Reverse Mini Bang 2017 and based on the awesome art by [verfound](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound). You will find their art illustrating the appropriate scene it represents below. 
> 
> Thank you to verfound for being such a great bang partner and to the event organizers who worked so diligently to make this event happen!

A familiar scent met Ami when she entered the bakery. That particular blend of caramelized sugar, vanilla, rising bread and sweet marzipan that she once associated with her best friend's kitchen now lingered in this much more public venue. In any other place, the flowery decor would have seemed overly stuffy for Ami's taste, but the brightly lit storefront with the long glass cases filled with colorful cakes and tarts made it feel warm and welcoming.

She spotted her friend on her way out of the kitchen, carrying an enormous tray of freshly-baked croissants. Makoto made it look easy, the way she bustled in with the huge tray over her shoulder, her crisp whites streaked with frosting. She grinned when she spotted Ami. "Hey! Your favorite barista isn't here yet."

Ami darted closer to her, glancing furiously around. "Mako!" she hissed in a low voice.

The brunette laughed as she set down her tray and began shifting the croissants into the case. It was the mid-morning lull, between the coffee rush and the lunchtime rush, and hardly anybody was there to hear her comment. Except for Naru, who looked suspiciously intent on arranging the mugs behind the counter. "Relax, I haven't said anything to him."

And yet, Ami could still feel herself blushing furiously. "I'm not here for him, I..."

"Ami, dearest, I know you love my pastries, but you hardly even find time for coffee night anymore, and yet lately you feel inclined to take your studying here?"

"I like the ambiance," she muttered defensively.

Makoto continued filling the croissant tray in the case, perfectly calm despite her friend's mild distress. A year ago, Ami would not have known one croissant from another. Now she had been watching Makoto closely enough to recognize how each one of them was uniform, perfectly twisted into their little crescent shapes. Dedication to the craft had done much for Makoto's attention to detail. "Of course you are. And if you go take your usual window seat, you'll look stunning in the sunlight when he comes in. I've got some experiments in the back I'd like you to try."

Ami took her seat and tried to calm her frayed nerves by setting out and organizing her study materials. The worst part was, Makoto was not wrong. Ami was in her third year at university now, and her thoughts were on med school. She should not be wasting precious study time in a place so rife with distractions. And yet here she was, once again. If Makoto noticed, did that mean he did as well? Ami tried to figure out whether the notion was thrilling or mortifying. She wasn't looking for love, she reasoned. She didn't have time for love. But wasn't it nice, she thought, to imagine something special happening?

***

Soichi charged through the front doors of the Rosewater Cafe like a hurricane. He weaved past the lineup of customers at the counter and zipped behind it.

"You're late," chimed Naru at the register, her voice still in that high octave normally reserved for customer service.

The staff lockers were clustered to one side of the large kitchen area behind the store. Soichi fumbled to get the correct key out and the locker door open and shoved his bag inside. Of course he knew that no amount of rushing could bring back the full 15 minutes that he was late (an agonizing length of time in customer service), but he could avoid being any /more/ late. And at least if the boss happened to see how frantic he was, perhaps she would take pity on his plight…

"You're late." This voice was not nearly as high or musical as Naru's. It was flat and stern, the voice of authority. Soichi flinched, and turned around.

Makoto Kino was not looking at him. She was busy arranging fruit on dozens of tarts. That made it hard to tell whether she was angry or not.

Soichi took a breath, his excuse already lined up in his head. "I'm sorry Kino-san, I--"

"Relax, Nobuo texted me already. He explained that the lateness was not /entirely/ your fault."

Soichi felt hot anger flash through him. "Did he also happen to mention that it was entirely /his/ fault?"

At that, the stern facade melted, and his boss laughed. "He may have neglected to mention that part. What did you two get into now?"

"He pulled all my laundry out of the dryer and just left it unfolded in the basket." Soichi stripped off his t-shirt as he spoke. Most employees either arrived already in uniform or changed in the staff washroom. Soichi never hesitated to remove his clothing in the middle of a busy kitchen. "Without telling me! Everything I own was wrinkled!"

Somehow, Makoto highly doubted that even a fraction of Soichi's clothing could fit into a single laundry basket. She smirked down at the tarts. "Well Naru's break is in half an hour. In the meantime, you can bring that plate out to the blue-haired girl by the window for me." She pointed over at a plate she had set aside, clustered with treats. A new biscotti recipe that she was trying out, today's feature scone (orange and cardamom), and one of the tiny kirsch tarts that she knew Ami was fond of.

Soichi paused in buttoning up his shirt with the Rosewater Cafe logo on the pocket. "Wait--she's here?"

"Did you not notice your muse when you came barreling in?"

For the second time that day, somebody glanced around in horror after a statement that Makoto made, out of fear that someone may be listening. "Oh my god, don't call her that where she can hear you."

Makoto smirked at him over her shoulder. "Your secret's safe with me, but there is a fine line between cute and creepy when it comes to staring intently at a girl from across the room for weeks. If you don't start talking to her like a normal person soon, you're gonna be hitting that line."

Soichi picked up the plate. "But what if I scare her off? She seems like, /really/ shy. Like she won't even look at me kind of shy."

Makoto carefully arranged a strawberry on top of one of the tarts. "Then be less scary. Now scoot." She waved him off like a bustling grandmother rushing people out of her kitchen, and returned to her work.

Kino-san wasn't a bad boss, Soichi thought. But he could do without working for someone that happened to be dating his roommate. It made her more like a bossy sister.

Bless the Rosewater Cafe's expansive windows. Ami Mizuno sat by herself at one of the little tables that lined one side, set only for two. The sunlight glowed all around her, her hair a wash of brilliant blues. Soichi tried for a moment to memorize the colors, the curve of her jaw, the way her brows frowned behind her reading glasses as she jotted down her notes. He tried, but Naru was at his elbow. "Do you want to bring her cookies, or are you just going to stare at her all day?"

Soichi startled. How did Naru _do_ that? "You're worse than Kino-san!"

The redhead grinned. "That's because I have to be out here, watching you make puppy eyes all day. Now go give her that biscotti."

***

Ami leaned her chin in her hand, careful not to tug on the cord dangling from her earbuds, as she wrote in quick, sharp kanji. A lavender green tea blend steeped in a small pot beside her (Makoto was a huge believer in serving tea properly, in ornate little teacups poured from a glass pot, and often went so far as to instruct her customers on how long to let it steep). Sudden movement by her elbow startled her out of her study haze, and she realized a plate of treats had been set on her table.

Ami pulled an earbud from her ear as she looked up to thank Makoto, but--it was definitely not Makoto who stood before her. Fiery red-blond hair that seemed barely contained by the elastic that tied it back in a low, curly ponytail. Sharp green eyes set in the most delicate face she had ever seen. He was in the cafe's uniform, wearing a shirt just slightly too baggy for his lithe frame, but even in that he looked so unfairly pretty that Ami caught herself getting flustered already. She hastily pulled out an earbud. "O-oh! Thanks."

"Gifts from Kino-san," the barista said. "She must really like you. Her other friends always get the broken bits, but she saves you the select pieces." Was he smiling? Was he smiling at _her_?

"That's because they'll eat it no matter what," Ami found herself saying, to her slight horror. "Mako-chan knows I don't like sweets very much, so she's always trying to convert me with extra special baking."

"Is that why you always order your tea unsweetened?"

Ami blinked up at him. "You remember what I order?"

The barista fidgeted, adjusting his apron. He had long, delicate fingers, she noticed. Bits of bright color ringed the cuticles of his fingernails, as though he had stained his hands with something and not managed to scrub all of it off yet. For a moment she wondered if perhaps she had flustered him, but he rallied with a cocky smirk. "I remember what everyone orders."

"Really? Everyone?" Ami had never worked in food service, but she saw how fast the line moved, how complicated a single drink could be. If he could remember each order for even more than five minutes, she was actually impressed.

"Uh-huh. You never take your tea with milk or sugar, but you switch up which flavor you want each time."

Ami flushed a little at the thought of him remembering their previous interactions so clearly. But now the analytical part of her brain was overriding the part that remembered to be self-conscious. "Okay. What about that couple over there?"

He turned to see the pair of young adults, perhaps in their 30s, in the far corner. Unlike her, neither had a glass teapot to hint at their orders. Worse, they were drinking from paper to-go cups, plastic lids masking their contents entirely. The barista's green eyes narrowed, sharp slivers of emerald that looked as though they could pierce those cups. "A latte for her. Half-caff, no sugar. She likes things simple. Him, he's the one with the syrupy monstrosity. Goes for whatever has the highest sugar content, in this case the cookies and cream thing, with whipped cream and cookie crumbles on top."

"Wow, you remember all that?"

"Absolutely."

Ami tilted her head. "Didn't you just start your shift? When did you serve them?"

The barista paused, his smile faltering. Then he laughed. "Okay, you got me. Did it sound plausible?"

She stared, incredulously. "You mean you just made all that up?"

"I like to think of it as more of an educated guess."

"Educated guess, not just a guess? Based on what?"

"Well…" the barista looked at his stained fingernails. The one on his index finger was ringed in bright green, she noticed. "She seems like a pretty no-nonsense kind of person. Sensible hair, flat shoes, a purse that's obviously made to hold the essentials. She brought a jacket with her even though it's a nice day, because she thinks ahead. He, on the other hand, is just barely managing to portray himself as a functioning adult. He's wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon character that hasn't been on TV in 15 years. He's wearing sneakers that are falling apart. Basically he's still a bit of a child, and he's not trying to hide it, so the only coffee he's interested in is the kind that comes with cookies in it."

Ami shot the couple another glance, trying not to be too obvious about it. She had hardly taken notice of them at all, could not even recall their hair or what color shirts they wore, without a second glance. "You got all that from just a look?"

He had hardly stopped playing with his nails since he recited off his list of facts, but now he glanced up at her, his eyes bright beneath his blond bangs, his smile almost shy. "Yeah, I like noticing things like that. People are interesting."

"Are they? Enough to invent beverage choices for them?"

"Hey, gotta get my entertainment somehow, right?"

Ami opened her mouth to respond, but Naru's voice carried across the cafe. "Hey Soichi! Flirt on your break time, not on mine!"

The blond flushed and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Better go. Uh, enjoy the biscotti."

"Oh. Um, thanks." Ami watched him sprint away, feeling like she had just been through the spin cycle. Had she really managed to hold a conversation with a complete stranger just now? Moreover, someone who she had an enormous crush on?

She shook her head. The guy was obviously extroverted, and she was a customer. He could probably talk to anybody like that and think nothing of it. This little chat probably meant a lot more to her than it did to him. Sighing a little to herself, she put her earbud back in, and took a nibble of biscotti. It was, of course, amazing.

***

Soichi slumped through the door to his apartment, sighing. He liked his boss, he liked making drinks, he even liked his customers, in a way. But he did not like food service. Or standing on his feet all day. Or getting so dirty. _Why_ was food service so dirty? How did he manage to get so much chocolate syrup all over himself? He was certain every inch of his torso was sticky, including parts that were covered by his uniform. It was in his _hair_. Did syrup just float through the air like a mist?

He kicked off his shoes by the door and shuffled to the bathroom, not even bothering to take a detour to his bedroom first. Shower took priority over everything, and if there happened to not be a clean towel available, well, it would not be the first time he walked naked across the apartment.

He reached the bathroom door, and froze. Then he dumped his bag on the floor with a thump. "Nobuoooooooo!"

"What?" A voice called back from the kitchen.

"What the hell is this?"

Nobuo's head poked around the kitchen doorway. "What is what?"

"This! Why is your hockey stuff all over the bathroom?"

"It was getting janky, so I soaked it."

"Well soak it somewhere else! I need the shower!"

"Like where? It won't fit in the kitchen sink."

"Stick it in your room, I don't care!"

"And get water all over the carpet?"

"Oh for-- " Soichi stormed into the bathroom and started extracting shin pads and thick gloves and--oh god, were those socks?--from the bathtub and dumping them wherever they would fit. Soon the sink and one corner of the bathroom were piled with wet, sweaty-smelling hockey gear, but at least he could get his shower.

The shower dealt with the stickiness, but not the crankiness. Nobuo was pouring over a physics textbook with a sandwich stuffed in his mouth when Soichi came storming in, wearing absolutely nothing but his hair, which turned to copper curls when wet. "And stop using my Lush soap!"

Nobuo took the time to swallow his bite of sandwich, apparently not caring about the anger _or_ the nudity. His long dark hair hung freely over his shoulders, and judging by its glossy curls, he had been raiding Soichi's shampoo supply as well. He was not surprised to recognize the little swirl pattern on the top of the bun that Nobuo had for his sandwich, one that Makoto used as a sort of signature. It seemed like half their kitchen was stocked by Soichi's employer. "Is that soap? I thought you were just keeping a block of honey in there to snack on during your hour-long baths."

"You know damn well it is! Either stop using it or buy me more. That stuff isn't cheap."

Soichi knew he had a temper, and that sometimes people much larger than himself found it a little intimidating when he lost it. But Nobuo was one of the few who could be on the receiving end of Soichi's wrath and not care in the slightest. They had been friends for years before they moved in together, and Nobuo took Soichi's mercurial moods with barely a shrug. "Yeah sure, I'll swing by there and grab a block of the most flowery thing they've got."

This appeased Soichi a little. He exhaled, reaching up to arrange his damp hair. "Just don't get anything with patchouli. I hate that stuff."

"Okay."

"And nothing with big chunks of flower petals, because it'll clog the drain."

"Alright."

He wandered towards his room, in search of clothes and a hair dryer. "And make sure it's hydrating, or I'll use up all my lotion."

"Or you could just go yourself!" Nobuo shouted from down the hall, but Soichi was already ignoring him.

Despite Soichi's fussiness over his own appearance, his bedroom was… cluttered. It was not that he was a slob, exactly. It was just that art projects, and the requisite supplies, tended to take up a lot of space. He had an easel propped in the corner, with his current project on it. Canvasses were lined up against walls, or stacked flat on the floor. Several surfaces were piled high with tubs of paint. A large ugly vase was used as a makeshift holder for paint brushes, pencils, and other tools. A bookshelf was stuffed with art books, sketch books, comics and magazines. There were boxes and boxes of other art supplies shoved to one side. And this was all before one dared to look in Soichi's closet, which was jammed so full of clothes that reaching into them to retrieve a shirt required physically fighting through the others.

Nobuo appeared in his doorway as Soichi was in the middle of buttoning up his black skinny jeans. "Hey, package arrived for you." He tossed a small box across the room, forcing Soichi to give up on his fly to catch it.

Soichi turned it over, inspecting the sender's address. "Who the heck--oh! It's my blue!"

Nobuo raised a dark eyebrow. "Your what? Are you mail ordering colors now?"

Soichi dug around in his vase until he found a palette knife with a sharp point and used it to stab at the tape around the box's edge. "Sure am."

"Can you do that with other metaphysical concepts? Can you get me a box of time?"

"I could get you a watch, but you wouldn't use it." Soichi dug through layers of tissue paper and came up with a small jar, little bigger than a pot of eyeshadow. He dumped the box and wrappings on the bed and carefully unscrewed the lid, bringing it closer for Nobuo to see. Inside the jar was a vibrant powder of such a sharp, bright blue that it almost looked fluorescent. "See? Blue."

"...You got a bunch of blue powder."

"It's pigment."

Nobuo gave him a skeptical look. "Weren't you _just_ complaining that you couldn't afford any more art supplies this month?"

Soichi hastily tightened the cap over the little jar again before either of them sneezed or tripped or otherwise put the valuable blue dust at risk. "Okay, yes, but _this_ blue…"

"I can _see_ your other blue paint. It is right there on the desk."

He held the jar defensively against his chest. "But _this_ blue is the first new shade of blue to be discovered in 200 years. It's stable, it doesn't fade, it's crisp…"

"Soichi. Seriously. Did you not get that job at Mako's bakery because you blew your student loans on art supplies?"

"Okay yes, but this stuff is super rare and important and I needed it. I'm taking Naru's shifts next week and--" the blond paused, then tossed his wet curls behind his shoulder. "And anyway why am I justifying myself to you? You blew a week's pay on Transfomers figurines!"

Nobuo laughed. "Okay, just don't come whining to me next month after you've been eating nothing but instant ramen for weeks."

Soichi gave him a smug look. "Except that now I work for Kino-san and I get free baking whenever I want."

"Oh, is that why you're looking a little pudgy around the middle?"

Soichi's arms dropped around his bare stomach. "Am not!" Even as he said it, he was sneaking a glance in the mirror.

Nobuo cackled. "Made you look!"

"Augh, you're the worst!" He carefully set his pot of blue pigment on his desk and went to dig a shirt out of his closet before Nobuo could find anything else to comment on. He sort of hoped Nobuo would take that moment to leave him be, but apparently that was too much to ask.

"Hey, so I'm going out of town in a couple weeks. Mako probably told you she has that seminar in Kyoto."

Soichi pulled on a tastefully faded button-down shirt that he had found at a second-hand shop in Harajuku. "You two are taking a trip together? That's a big step."

"I mean, it's not like we're taking a vacation or anything. She's going to be learning about how to braid artisanal bread or something the whole time."

Soichi grinned down at his buttons as he meticulously did them up. "And you'll just happen to be sharing a hotel room."

"I will admit, traveling over 500 kilometers away just to not have to listen to your electronica all night is really appealing."

"Better than the sound of your snoring. I should give Kino-san a pair of earplugs before she goes."

"You're just jealous that I am going to be spending four days eating in fancy restaurants in a beautiful city with my _actual girlfriend_ instead of pining after someone whose only conversation with you consists of you bringing her food."

"Oh my god, do you guys do anything other than gossip about me all the time?"

Nobuo had his phone out, texting one-handed. "Oh, are you asking for details about our night last night?"

"I have to work under her, so ew, no."

Soichi knew he had said exactly the wrong thing even before Nobuo's wicked grin appeared. "Funny, I really liked working und--"

"Aaaaand you're leaving now. Bye." Soichi was across the room and slamming the door on his roommate before Nobuo could even get the words out.

He breathed a sigh, leaning against the closed door. Was he jealous of Nobuo apparently already acting like he was happily engaged to his statuesque baker who, for some reason, seemed to have a thing for tall, dark astronomy nerds with a side of jock? Absolutely, he was. Soichi was far prettier and _much_ more interesting than the guy who left his smelly socks in the bathroom sink, and yet here he was, alone in his room on a Friday evening, while Nobuo was probably sending heart emojis to his boss.

Soichi glanced at the little pot of pigment on his desk, and he remembered what it was about that particular shade of blue that appealed to him so deeply. He did have this. Soichi returned to his closet. He was _not_ going to paint in his best thrift store shirt.

***

"So what are you listening to?"

Ami stirred from her studying as the blond barista set down her newly-refilled teapot. Today it was a blueberry white tea, which Makoto recommended as accompaniment to the lavender shortcake she had sent to Ami from the kitchen.

She hurriedly removed one of her earbuds. "Oh! Um, Piano Concerto No. 23."

Soichi cleared away her empty plate, and she saw that he had spots of some new shade of blue on his hands. "Mozart. Solid choice. Do you go with the theory that it improves memory retention?"

She smiled, surprised at his knowledge. "The research seems to be mixed on that front, but I do find it helps when I'm trying to study in public. Do you use it as a study aid?"

"I'm more of a Vivaldi guy myself, but my most intensive homework usually involves getting paint all over myself."

"Oh, are you an artist?"

"Yeah, at the Tokyo University of the Arts."

"I suppose that explains the blue on your hands."

He glanced down, spreading out his long fingers, and laughed. "Kino-san doesn't believe that I scrub them thoroughly. She makes me wear gloves in the back."

"What kind of painting do you do?"

"All sorts. I went through an abstract phase for a while. I also went through a period where I was painting nothing but trees."

"Just trees?"

"Well, not all the same trees. Trees in bloom, trees on fire…" He tilted his head to look at her notes. "I think what you're learning is probably a lot more important, though."

"Well, medicine _is_ important," Ami contended. "But so is art."

He smiled. "So you're learning to be a doctor? Save lives?"

 _I already save lives,_ Ami thought. But this was different. Senshi business was all crisis management, acting in the heat of the moment to mitigate disaster. Most that she helped save never knew the danger they were in, and never knew who saved them. But her mother, whose life Ami had watched since she was young, got to look into the eyes of her patients. She got to experience their recovery with them. She fidgeted with her pencil. "I'd like to. At least, that's what I remind myself of when I'm pulling all nighters."

He raised his eyebrows. "And you don't drink coffee? How in the world do you cope?"

Ami held her teacup up to her mouth, more or less hiding defensively behind it. "I guess I'm just used to it. I've been studying hard since I was little."

Soichi leaned on the back of the chair opposite her. How were his eyes so green? "That's a shame. I make a great cup of coffee."

"Do you? I can't say I know coffee well enough to know the difference between a good cup of coffee and a bad one."

"Yeah--hey, tell you what. I'll make you the best cup of espresso you've ever had. If you don't like it, you don't have to drink it."

"O-oh, you don't have to go that far! Really, it's not necessary."

But Soichi looked determined now. "Nah, it's my pleasure. Look, if Kino-san can give you cookies to try to make you love cookies, the least I can do is give you some great coffee to go with it."

Ami sighed, a little flabbergasted, but also a little flattered at his efforts. "Alright, I will try it. I can't promise you'll convert me, though."

His smile could have powered half the Tokyo grid. "Trust me. If my coffee doesn't do it for you, then no coffee will."

Ami knew, as the blond returned to his place behind the counter, that she should take that opportunity to return to her own work. She had so many vocabulary terms left to memorize, so many diagrams left to study. But she found herself glancing back up at him. The way his fingers seemed to dance over the espresso machine. How his hair seemed almost to be made of spun gold when the sunlight fell on it. The way his delicate face creased in concentration as he poured. She was forced to look hastily back down at her books as he returned, carrying a cup on a saucer like a waiter at the finest Michelin three-star restaurant.

The cup was presented to her--with a heart drawn in the foam, and a little cookie on the saucer. It looked like something out of a photo, something that should be done up in black and white film and hung on the wall beside her table. Ami had never really thought before about how cute those little foam hearts she had seen in pictures could look in reality. "Alright, I remember you saying you're not a huge fan of sweet things, and I assume if you like tea you're not looking for anything too heavy. So it's a latte with a bit of extra foam, and just a bit of vanilla for sweetness."

"It is very pretty," Ami told him, almost wondering if it would be impolite to ruin the little heart by drinking it.

"Presentation is half the experience." He smiled proudly.

She felt self-conscious with him watching, and perhaps Soichi quickly sensed that, because he did not linger. "I'd better go finish cleaning up before my shift is done. Let me know what you think, okay?"

She nodded. "I will. Thank you."

She waited until he had gone into the back kitchen to take a small, careful sip of the drink. Even then, leaving a dent in the perfect heart in the foam made her a little bit sad.

***

"Are you serious right now?"

In the few months that Soichi had worked at the Rosewater Cafe, he had never heard Makoto shout before. Not even the time that the espresso machine gave out during peak hours. She always seemed so warm and easygoing around her employees.

Now? Now he was grateful to have never had her true wrath directed at him. When he entered the kitchen, he found her drawn up to her full, impressive height, her green eyes staring so hard at the ovens that she seemed to be willing lightning to strike down from the heavens to obliterate them. With how she looked just then, he almost expected it to happen.

But she was speaking into her cellphone, and as she continued speaking he realized that the ovens were merely collateral damage.

"Who else am I supposed to get? --No, I asked her already. Her duties at the shrine start at the crack of dawn. --Ami's way too busy with school right now, same as Mamoru. --No, I want my plants _alive_ when I get back. I mean bless Usagi's heart, but also do you really think giving her the keys to the bakery is a thing I should do? --Mina. Minako. No your cat cannot apartment-sit for me. Do _not_ try to pawn this off on him!"

While he was internally horrified at whoever would suggest a cat take over any sort of responsibility, Soichi skirted around the edge of the kitchen as quietly as he could, trying to reach his locker without her taking notice. If lightning struck, he did not want to be in the crossfire.

He nearly made it before Makoto hung up the call with a sound of annoyance. "Never make friends with aspiring idols. They'll drop you for any gig they can get."

No longer able to make a hasty retreat, Soichi gave up on trying to make himself as small as possible. "One of your friends flake out on you?"

Makoto sighed, drawing her arm across her brow, leaving a trail of flour. It was times like this that he could see why she and Nobuo got along so well. "Yeah. Something like that. Ugh, no, it's not like she's ditching me on purpose. It's a good opportunity and she should take it. But now I've got a week to find someone else to watch the apartment while I'm in Kyoto."

Soichi had never seen Makoto's apartment, but he knew it was just upstairs, above the bakery. "You're only gone for four days, right? Are you really that worried about your place? The bakery's fine, you worked out the roster for your bakers months ago."

"It's not the apartment, it's my plants. I've got a lot of them, and some of them have really specific needs."

"You can't have someone just water them every day?"

Makoto gave him a look that seemed deeply disappointed in his lack of plant knowledge. "The miniature roses need to be moved in front of the window every morning but they can't stay by the window all night or they'll be chilled. The orchids need to be lightly misted every day. And the azaleas…"

"So that's a no."

"That's a definite no."

Soichi tugged his clothes from his locker. "Do you want me to do it?"

Makoto paused. "Could you? I mean, I don't want you to feel obligated as my employee…"

He shrugged. "I'm on the schedule every day you're gone, so it would make it super easy to go to work, and it's a quick train ride to my school. I could use the change of scene for working on projects--uh, unless you don't want me painting in your place. I do use dropcloths and I clean out the sink after I wash my brushes."

Makoto considered. "Just keep it to the kitchen and don't use any of my glasses for paint water and I think we'll be okay."

"Got it. No paint water in the glasses, no paint on the floor. No paint anywhere." Soichi pulled his vintage t-shirt on over his head, shoved his work shirt into his bag, quickly smoothed down his hair and shut the locker. "Anything else? Should I learn the names of all your plants before you go?"

"I'll leave you a guide," she said dryly. "But yeah, one more thing. Be nice to Ami."

Soichi paused, halfway out the door. "Am I being anything _other_ than nice to her?"

"No, but if you are interested in her… you need to give her time and space. She's under enough pressure as it is."

He tugged distractedly at the zipper pull on his bag. "Yeah, I get it. Med student, no time for romance. I get it."

Makoto stared at him a moment, as though trying to decide whether or not to say what came next. She must have decided she liked him enough, or she owed him for the apartment-sitting, or maybe the stars were in alignment or something, because finally she said, "you know she's got a thing for you, right?"

He blinked up at her. "Uh, what gave you that idea? She usually looks startled more than anything when I talk to her."

Makoto nodded slowly. "She's a med student choosing to study in a really busy cafe instead of literally anywhere else, and she hates coffee. So like I said. Time. Space. Be nice."

When Soichi returned to the front of the shop, Ami was still there. The sun still shone an impossible blue halo through her hair. The tiniest dent in the corner of the foam heart was all that had been consumed of the coffee he made her. The cookie, he noticed, had vanished. So Makoto's skills still won out over his, then. Soichi leaned against the chair opposite Ami. "Didn't love it, huh?

She looked so sheepish that he instantly felt guilty for inflicting the drink on her at all. "I'm sorry, it really is much better than other coffee I've tried! But it just doesn't seem to be for me."

He draped himself dramatically against the chair. A little drama never hurt an awkward situation. "You wound me, my dear! My finest quality, rejected!"

"Oh, I don't know if that's your finest quality…"

He perked up, very interested. "Really?"

Ami actually blushed, a deep pink that started at her cute little nose and spread to her cheeks. It was the most adorable thing Soichi had ever seen in his life. "A-ah, I mean… I assume you have plenty of fine… uh…"

Soichi grinned. "Better than bitter garbage drinks, hopefully."

"It is very pretty," she said in a tiny voice.

"Oh good. Pretty garbage is my specialty."

"I think calling yourself garbage is a bit much."

No sooner had the words escaped Ami's mouth then her hands flew up to her face as though to try to stop them. If she looked embarrassed before, now she looked _mortified._

Soichi had never been so delighted. "Are you calling me pretty?"

Apparently her single sick burn was the end of Ami Mizuno's wit, because all she could do was look at Soichi in wide-eyed horror. He smiled widely. "I'm gonna take that as a yes." And as much as he wanted to continue to bask in her accidental compliment-insult, Makoto's words were still in the back of his mind. He shouldered his bag again. "Well coffee may be a no-go, but you can't possibly hate everything I make. One of these days, I'll find the right drink to knock your socks off. See you, Mizuno-san."

As he left, he had to resist the urge to glance back at her. Her flushed cheeks probably looked even more beautiful framed by the window.

***

A week later, Soichi found himself staring down a three-page document on the care and maintenance of Makoto's small jungle. She had even included the names of each plant, and Soichi could not tell whether that was her continuing the joke or whether Makoto really was the kind of woman who would name her potted roses Andromeda.

However, she had also left him a fully stocked fridge as payment for his trouble, and that included a tray of chicken and brie-stuffed pastries she had made just for him, not to mention the tin of cookies on the counter.

The first thing he did, before wandering around the apartment to determine which of the potted plants was a lady's slipper orchid named Susan, was to move the table to one side of the kitchen, unfold several drop cloths and spread them over the floor, the chairs, and the table itself, and unfold his easel. It had been a pain to carry on the train, but given that he was an art student, he had certainly carried much stranger things around in public.

His phone buzzed as he was unpacking the stack of canvasses he had brought. A text from Nobuo, of course. Not even traveling outside the city was enough to stop him from sending eighty messages a day. "How's life in lamesville, Tokyo?"

Soichi sighed and texted back. "Ask Makoto how many children she has before you marry her."

There was a moment's pause before he received a reply. "She says to be careful with Susan. She's sensitive."

That absolutely did not clarify whether Makoto was joking or not, and Soichi was becoming mildly unnerved by that now. Shaking his head, he spread out the canvasses on the table, considering them.

A whole weekend to himself. He could come up here even on his breaks, just to squeeze in those few extra minutes of painting time. It was perfect.

He reached into the hidden inner pocket of his bag and pulled out the small pot of pigment. A perfect situation called for a perfect blue.

***

Nobuo hummed to himself as he unlocked the door to Makoto's apartment. He had just returned from four blissful days of exotic adventure with girl of his dreams, and it could not have gone any better. Well, perhaps next time they would go for an actual vacation together, rather than her spending her days in classes while he wandered alone around the city.

Of course Makoto was eager to check in on her bakery the moment they got back. She had never left it in the hands of her employees for so long, and she would inevitably have a list a mile long of everything that they had done wrong in her absence. He was happy to haul their bags upstairs while she dealt with that--nobody wants their boyfriend hanging around while they're trying to be a stern boss figure.

Nobuo swung the door open and heaved the bags inside. "Honey, I'm home!"

The fact that the apartment was neither on fire, nor did the plants that were immediately visible appear to be dead, was a good sign. The lack of answer was slightly less so. Soichi's shoes were by the door. Nobuo dumped the bags in the hall and went in search of his roommate.

***

"Mako-chan!" Naru hugged Makoto as she strode in through the kitchen's back door. None of her other employees would have dared greet their tall boss in such a way, but Naru was Naru. Her friendship predated Makoto's business by years. "What are you doing here? You're still on holiday, silly! You should be kicking back tonight."

Makoto returned the hug, though she was already looking around the kitchen over Naru's shoulder. The cafe had just closed, and all the bakers would have cleaned up and gone home hours ago, leaving only the front staff to tidy what was left. Already she could see a few items out of place, and tried not to bristle. "Just checking up. No big disasters while I was out?"

Naru shook her head, shrugging. "Just the usual. You know we would have called you if there was anything we couldn't handle. Ami's out front if you want to say hi."

Makoto glanced up at the clock. "Still? She doesn't usually stay until closing."

"Well," Naru said coyly, "I think a certain someone was distracting her earlier, and she wanted to catch up."

Makoto paused in the middle of moving a knife to its rightful place. "Do I need to fire him?"

Naru laughed as she returned to her sink of dishes. "You don't need to be dramatic about it. She obviously enjoys his company, and he hasn't been pushy at all. He always waits until she seems like she wants to talk."

Makoto pursed her lips as she finished restacking some cookie sheets that had been sloppily piled together. "I just worry she's not reading his signals. The fact that she hasn't run away screaming actually makes me think she has no idea he's into her."

Naru chuckled. "Well none of us are in middle school anymore, are we? Maybe she's gotten over her fear of romance." She glanced over at Makoto, and found her actually opening drawers now. "Seriously, you can inspect everything and yell at all of us tomorrow. Go grab Ami and make her split a bottle of wine with you. Then maybe she'll spill her guts."

Makoto sighed. "You're right. Thanks, Naru." She gave her another hug from behind, which Naru couldn't return on account of her soapy hands. "Some of that wine could be yours too, you know."

The redhead shrugged. "Nah, I've got a date with my girl tonight, but have fun, my dear."

***

The blond protested with a sound like a yowling cat when he was shaken roughly awake. Soichi was dressed like he had actually meant to go out somewhere, in skinny jeans and a white shirt, with a black designer vest (another thrift store find). Instead he was lying on Makoto's couch, Susan the orchid blooming pleasantly over his head, with a dropcloth wrapped around him as a blanket.

Nobuo prodded at him again. "C'mon Banksy, let's go. Up. Now."

Soichi blinked blearily up at him. "Nobuo? What are you doing here?"

"You know what a better question is? What the hell is that?" He gestured widely into the kitchen, where it seemed that every surface--the table, the counters, even some of the chairs, held a canvas.

Soichi scrambled to sit up. "What time is it? You weren't supposed to be back until--"

"It's after five. What timezone are you in right now? Is this what you spent your entire weekend doing? Did you even sleep?"

Soichi rubbed at his eyes. "Uh, maybe? A bit?"

"Well you better get up _now_ because Makoto is right downstairs and she is going to flip when she sees this." He gestured again into the kitchen, and the dozen or so canvasses strewn about it. Every one of them painted in shades of blue. Every one of them featuring her best friend.

Soichi sucked in a breath. "Oh. That doesn't look good, does it?"

Nobuo rubbed at his temple. "My guy, the word 'stalker' is coming to my mind right now."

And now the bleariness in the blond's green eyes gave way to panic. "No! I wasn't being creepy, I just couldn't decide which pose would look best."

"So you painted the same girl a million times?"

"No only like… six or seven or uh…" he trailed off, staring into the kitchen. "What do we do?!"

Nobuo chose not to point out that Soichi was just assuming he was going to involve himself in this. They would have time to argue about it later. "Just--grab the paintings and hide them. Stick them in your bag or something."

Soichi lept up from the couch, promptly stumbling over the dropcloth he had been sleeping under. It had latched onto his jeans and dragged halfway into the kitchen with him. He reached for the nearest canvas, and immediately swore. "The paint's not dry yet! I can't cover them!"

"Of course you can't. Of course." Nobuo ran his hands down his face. This was going to be very funny later, he thought. This was a card he could pull out the next time Soichi gave him a hard time about leaving his socks in the bathroom--

The bathroom. Of course. "Stick them all in the bathroom and lock the door. I'll tell Mako you're in the shower."

Soichi balled up the dropcloth he had left on the floor into a bundle, grabbed one of the paintings with his free hand, and made a dash for the bathroom. "And then what? Sit around in there all night?"

"I'll try to get her to go out for dinner. You can sneak them out while we're gone."

Soichi threw the dropcloth into the bottom of the bathtub, less worried about getting paint on the porcelain than he was about any moisture left from his actual shower getting on the canvass. He carefully propped the canvass against the side of the tub. This one was still sketchy, the outline of the cafe window little more than a rough rectangle, the table a ghost in pencil. But in the midst of this phantom setting was a girl whose hair was a bright shock of blue.

Nobuo shoved him aside to place two more paintings in the tub next to it. "Hurry up, she'll be here any second."

Soichi shook his head as he brought in another load. "You guys better be getting dessert, too."

Nobuo growled in frustration. "I should just leave you locked in here."

"She's gonna want the bathroom back eventually."

"Well we could just--" Nobuo froze. There were voices in the hall outside the front door. The front door that he currently stood directly in front of, holding a painting in each hand.

Soichi reached into the hall and grabbed the Nobuo by the shirt, tugging him into the bathroom with him, and silently pushed the door closed just as they heard the clatter of keys in the lock.

As it turned out, Makoto's bathroom was not very roomy when it was occupied by two grown men, eight paintings, and a large fern named Roger. Nobuo shoved the fern out of his face. "I really hate you right now," he grumbled.

"Shh!" Soichi hissed, as he maneuvered around Nobuo's bulk to lay one of the paintings on the closed toilet seat. The other was left to rest on the sink. Nobuo had to hold one of his arms up to avoid putting his elbow in it. Soichi sank against the door and slid down onto the floor, just to get out of Nobuo's general elbow vicinity.

Out in the hall, the jingle of keys and clattering of shoes being removed punctuated a feminine voice. Soichi let out a strangled gasp as he recognized it as Ami's. "...finally gave up on coffee. He's making me tea drinks now."

"I can tell him to leave you alone, you know."

"No, it's… okay. It's nice." Soichi gave Nobuo a triumphant grin. A look that was not returned, probably because he was still trying to keep the fern out of his face. "Besides, his last attempt was pretty good. He used that rose tea you like to make a latte."

"Huh, maybe I should get his input on the drink menu. Speaking of--Soichi? Nobuo? Where the heck are you guys?"

Soichi looked up at Nobuo. Nobuo glared down at Soichi. A silent argument followed, consisting mostly of hard stares and unspoken obscenities. Soichi was in the middle of frantically shaking his head when Nobuo called "in here!"

Makoto's footsteps moved closer to the door. "Uh, okay? What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know. Looking at your fern."

"Its name is Roger," Makoto and Soichi both said in unison. Soichi slapped his hand over his mouth. Nobuo slapped his hand over the entirety of his face.

"Are you both in there? Are you having a party without us?"

Now Ami's voice was nearby too. "Is everything okay?" The door handle rattled.

Soichi let out a squeak. "You can't come in here! I… I'm naked!"

Now it was Nobuo and Makoto's turn to speak in tandem: "Since when have you ever cared about her seeing you naked?!"

If Soichi could melt into the floor, or possibly crawl into the cupboard underneath the sink and hide there for the rest of his life, he very well might have.

In the awkward silence that permeated both sides of the door, Makoto finally said, "well I guess we'll leave you boys to it. Ami, want me to make you some tea?" Footsteps moved away now, and Soichi sagged in relief.

"I can make it," Ami's voice sounded from the kitchen. "Is it this jar on the counter?"

"What jar?"

Soichi scrambled for the door handle. "No wait, Ami! Don't--"

The door burst open, sending Soichi tumbling onto the hall floor. The two women stared, flabbergasted. Nobuo was face-palming above him. He may, in fact, never remove his face from his hands again.

A slow, creeping blush was moving up Ami's chest and into her cheeks as she looked through the bathroom door. "O-oh. Is this…?"

"It's not what it looks like!" Soichi blurted as he scrambled to his feet, acutely aware that saying something like that just made it worse. "It was just practice for an art project! I'm sorry I didn't ask your permission first, I didn't know if I could capture your hair or not and I didn't want you to be disappointed if it sucked and--" he trailed off, noticing that Makoto looked less than impressed. _I am so fired tomorrow._

"Tell her about the blue," Nobuo prompted. His hair was still full of fern (maybe Roger just liked touching it), but instead of extracting himself he crossed his arms, giving Soichi a nod.

"The blue." Soichi echoed blankly, before he caught on. "Right! The blue!" He smiled with newfound confidence. "YInMn Blue! It's a newly-discovered pigment that chemists have never seen before, made from a compound of yttrium, indium, manganese. I got my hands on a sample and I couldn't wait to try it out. It's the most beautiful shade of blue, discovered by accident, and it looks… well, just like your hair."

There was a pause. All the room--blond and brunettes and a multitude of greens--seemed to turn to the girl with the blue hair. She looked down at her hand, which held the little jar of pigment. "That's… amazing," she said.

Soichi was almost holding his breath. "You think so?"

She took a tentative step forward. "Can I see it up close?"

He felt like he was going to burst. "S-see it? Yeah. Yeah, of course!"

Nobuo took that moment to duck into the hall, while Soichi ushered Ami inside in his place, and started enthusing about paint mediums and cool undertones. In the kitchen, he collapsed against Makoto, his face burying in her neck. "Oh my god they are both _nerds_."

Makoto laughed against him. "Then it's a good thing they found each other, I suppose."

"Want to order the biggest pizza and drink wine until we forget this ever happened?"

"Oh yes," Makoto said with delight. "You haven't seen _anything_ until you've seen Ami after a glass of wine."


End file.
